


Blatant lies

by you_make_me_wander



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fake Dating, Stydia, mentions of Scott - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-11-12
Packaged: 2018-04-03 05:06:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4088044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/you_make_me_wander/pseuds/you_make_me_wander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Lydia pretend to be a couple for the sake of a mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**From one of** [ **stydia-fanfiction** ](http://stydia-fanfiction.tumblr.com/) **’s prompts for the Stydia Writing Challenge, “** **The ship trope where Stiles and Lydia need to be undercover as lovers/fake dating for the sake of a mission that the pack is doing that can be canon compliant”.**

**This mini-series will have three parts and here is the first one. The others will be mixed with other prompts. Enjoy :)**

**Part 1**

He seriously doesn’t understand how he could have ever agreed to this. He hasn’t seen Lydia in a year and a half, a whole freaking year and a half of their lives and he just got her back two days ago. Of course they’d already be in a mission for the pack; no one ever seems to be able to do anything without Stiles and Lydia to figure things out. He’s so tired of it. He seriously just wanted Lydia back in town to reconnect, maybe make some new memories but no. Instead they’re in a building that’s part of a giant property they barely had time to get acquainted with, looking for information they’re not even so sure about.

Scott had heard about a druid that could have invaluable information that the pack’s bestiary supposedly doesn’t have, and naturally Scott thought it would be a good idea to have Stiles and Lydia go in, pretending to be a couple that just needed a weekend away. The thought druid (neither Scott nor Deaton are sure) is apparently the owner of a hotel three cities away from Beacon Hills; a modern, very finely constructed building known in the last years as a retreat used for couples who just want a little time for themselves, maybe away from the kids or work or crazy lives of sorts. So logically, Scott thought that Stiles and Lydia could go in to try and retrieve any kind of information they can. They’re not even sure if the guy is a druid, let alone what exactly they’re looking for. Stiles can’t help but to feel like they’re chasing ghosts.

It’s almost midnight, and as most people already found their ways to their bedrooms for the night, Stiles and Lydia got out to roam around a bit and see what they could find. At the moment they’re confined in a small and almost full file room in the dark, a room that they luckily found unlocked in the administrative side of the building, and the only light is coming from a small flashlight that Stiles has in his hand; they didn’t want to turn on the lights to cause any more suspicion. They’ve been there for almost half an hour; they have to be running out of time by now.

“We are so going to get caught,” he mutters for what feels like the hundredth time in less than five minutes, stomping his foot on the ground far too fast, though lightly and almost without a sound.

Even if she can barely see him, Lydia is attentive to the soft sound he’s making, easily noticing his edginess. She sighs heavily, not losing her focus and keeping at rummaging through the files under his scrutinizing gaze. “If you say that again, Stiles, I swear to god…” she whispers, leaving her threat untold.

“What?” he spurts out, momentarily pointing the beam of light anywhere but to where he’s supposed to. The fact that they’re almost glued together in the tiny room is leaving him irrational. Only someone out of their mind would want to pick a quarrel with Lydia Martin, for sure. “What are you gonna do, uh?”

She turns to him and grabs his collar so quickly that Stiles gasps. Pulling him closer to her, Lydia gives him a glare that Stiles swears on his life could kill him, her gaze piercing through the almost darkness to find his. “Do you really want me to finish that sentence, Stilinski?”

He’s 23, he’s had a crush on her for the better part of the last 15 years and still every time Lydia touches him or directs her attention to him feels like it’s the first time. Whoever they dated in that period of time never mattered, mere distractions as he likes to call them. Just knowing that Lydia acknowledges his existence makes his day, even if right now he wished it was on better circumstances. Stiles swallows, suddenly tense at the way her breath is too close to his skin. “Hmm no.”

It’s funny how her enhanced hearing automatically picks up on his heartrate - which increased as soon as she touched him - and what Lydia really wants is to laugh at the way she can easily get to him, at how effortlessly she can get him worked up but right now he’s getting on her nerves, so instead she mutters the words slowly like she’s speaking to a child. “Then hold the stupid flashlight right so we can get out of here sooner rather than later.” Stiles seems to not be breathing at the lack of space in between them and Lydia has to roll her eyes not to chuckle. At least he probably can’t see her blush out of his reaction. “Can you do it for me?”

Stiles licks his lips nervously and it doesn’t escape him how her gaze drifts from his eyes to his mouth even if swiftly. But Lydia is far too close for him to put his thoughts in order, the scent of her perfume so discrete that he has to resist the urge to bend down and get even closer to the crook of her neck. Stiles nods dumbly.

“Good, then do that,” Lydia mumbles, releasing the grip on his flannel and turning around. It takes him a second to recompose and Lydia smiles to herself, biting her lower lip. They haven’t seen each other in a year and a half and it still feels like things are exactly the same between them. They’d been so excited to see each other again and ‘ _reconnect_ ’, as they keep saying, and now they’re pretending to be dating for the sake of a mission. She doesn’t mind it one bit. Getting back to work, Stiles points the light back to the small table that’s in the middle of the room and leans on it to see what Lydia is doing, peeking over her shoulder. Her first instinct is to tell him to move away because he’s almost literally glued to her but there’s not much room for him to do so. Besides, she’s missed physical contact with him so yeah, she’s keeping her mouth shut.

They work together for a few more minutes going through file after file searching for an answer without success. “These are just employees’ files and financial reports and stuff. I don’t think it’s here.”

Lydia gives up too. “Yeah, I think you’re right.” She taps her fingers on the table while thinking of what to do next, the sound doing nothing to distract Stiles from the way her hair is up in a high ponytail, leaving her neck completely exposed to him and looking fairly mouthwatering in the dim light of the small space they’re in. “Come on, help me put these back.”

Stiles gathers the papers on the corresponding files and hands them to Lydia, who in her turn puts them in their rightful places, trying to do less noise than Stiles would if he was the one handling the metallic file cabinet. They’re pretty much finished when Lydia stops abruptly, sounds startling her. Turning around on her heels, one of her hands finds one of Stiles’ wrists, drawing his attention. “Did you hear that?” she whispers only loud enough for him to hear.

Stiles straightens, his head turning from right to left to try and catch a sound. “No, I don’t hea-”

“Shh.” Lydia takes a step back to stand closer to him, her other hand finding the flashlight that Stiles was still holding and turning it off, engulfing them both in complete darkness. He puts the flashlight in his pocket while she focuses hard on listening in. Thankfully, a few years of experience as a banshee have their perks. The sound of footsteps and jiggling keys make her hold her breath; the distance and the slow pace tell her they probably have about two minutes to do something, maybe less. “Shit.”

“What?”

“Someone’s coming.”

He starts babbling automatically, his pessimistic self coming to the surface. “I knew it. I knew we were going to get cau-”

Lydia slaps his arm, her tone hushed. “Not now, Stiles.” There’s no way they can get out of there without getting caught. The room they’re in is in one of the corners of the building and the only thing for like 30 meters outside their door for either side are two hallways, both with a glass wall that could easily expose them. The fire stairs that they used to get here is just a door down, but Lydia wouldn’t know for sure where the person is coming from, so it would do them no good to try and make a run for it. It would only make them look guiltier. “Take off your shirts.”

Stiles’ heartbeat picks up again and Lydia smirks, thankful that Stiles can’t see the smug look she has on her face because she can hear it. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb, Stiles. We knew we would have to.” They had been lucky - or unlucky depending on the perspective - so far. The only couple-y thing they had to do all day was holding hands and having their arm around the other’s waist. It had been enough to sell their couple status apparently, but not now. Lydia definitely isn’t bothered by it. She unbuttons her cardigan and her button-up shirt till the very end, leaving her bra exposed. If only Stiles could see it… Not so far away, whoever is out there opens a door and then another, the sounds of locks snapping Lydia out of her distracting thoughts. They’re probably looking for Stiles and Lydia in every room. “Take them off, now,” she tells him again, letting down her hair and running her hands through it, messing it a bit.

Stiles huffs but does as he’s told, taking his flannel off first and then his t-shirt. Somehow Lydia’s hands find his clothes in the dark and toss them unceremoniously to the ground somewhere. Quickly sitting on the desk, Lydia tries to find Stiles by reaching out with her hands but doesn’t find him because Stiles, in all his uncertainty, had taken a step back.

“Stiles, come here dammit,” she hisses. He follows her voice and ends up bumping into her knees because she was closer than he thought, his hands grabbing at whatever he finds first to support himself. Realizing it’s her flanks and that his thumbs brushed her breasts – thankfully for his embarrassment, covered by her bra -, Stiles stumbles back immediately but Lydia doesn’t let him move away or say anything else, wrapping her legs around his waist. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry. I’ll kill you,” she mutters assertively but letting out a small giggle, her tiny hands roaming up his bare chest and finding their place around his neck, pulling him down in the process. “Like you don’t want this, anyway…” she murmurs to his lips, grinning.

He doesn’t. At least, not in these circumstances. This is not how it was supposed to go. Stiles was supposed to be his charming self and woo her, court her, before they did anything else. It was supposed to go according to the plan; that way he’d be in control. But like this… Of course he still wants it, but he’s not sure what to do with this. “I don-”

She cuts him short, amused, noticing how his heart faltered just then. “Liar.”

Stiles thinks about arguing, about telling her that maybe this is a bad idea. He thinks about all the ways he’s gonna make Scott pay for this, for setting them up, but it takes him all of five seconds to realize that his mind is blank. And his mind is blank because Lydia Martin is kissing him for dear life, leaving him completely frozen in place. He knew they had to; it was part of the plan after all, but when was the last/first time they kissed? Six, seven years ago, back in the locker room of BHHS? Even if this had been sort of premeditated, the shock of being lip locking with the banshee again leaves Stiles stunned, stiff as a board.

Lydia feels him tense under her touch but the sounds outside are getting too close. Pulling at his bottom lip softly and breaking the kiss, Lydia squeezes one of his ass cheeks without a second thought, surprising him. If only he could see her, he’d know she liked it. She had always wanted to do that. “We gotta sell this,” she whispers, placing a kiss on his jaw before returning to his mouth, her words coming out in short breaths too close to his lips for their own good, “so you better kiss me like you mean it.”

For a second or two Lydia thinks she broke him because he doesn’t do anything. But then she hears him mumble “ _Ah hell_ ” and his hands pull her even closer by the waist all of a sudden and then his lips crash onto hers desperately, the kiss coming out rougher than they probably wanted it but still soft somehow, definitely great. It’s a thrill, she can’t deny it. Only god knows how many times she’d hoped Stiles would grab her like that. Add the melodious thrum of his racing heart because of her and she’s done for.

It’s funny because they hadn’t agreed to this, they just went with what Scott ordered and that was it. They were supposed to check in at the hotel as a fake couple to try and retrieve information, simple as that. There was some mild argument on both parts, of course, but there wasn’t a big enough reason for Scott to reconsider sending the both of them. Actually, the Alpha did it on purpose to try and get them together but Stiles and Lydia already suspect as much. Whether it’s true or not, they’re not complaining much right now.

Lydia scratches his bare torso ever so gently, her manicured fingernails making his muscles react instantly at the contact. As a response, Stiles bites her lower lip softly and whatever is the sound that she lets out – it’s a moan, Lydia Martin just moaned – makes him feel much more confident, and soon he’s deepening the kiss and tongue meets tongue while his hands move down to her hips, hers moving up to tug at his hair, the tiny space feeling hotter and hotter as the seconds go by.

Lydia only breaks the kiss to mutter ‘ _ten seconds_ ’ against his lips and Stiles nods, resuming to his new favorite activity. Sure enough, around ten seconds later the door is opened abruptly and a security guard, a middle-aged short man, catches them red-handed. Stiles and Lydia are completely wrapped up in each other, both shirtless and panting, blush easily covering their faces and neck. It’s a shame that Lydia was actually right about someone coming in; it was just getting good.

“Oh,” the man takes a step back, stunned. “What are you two doing here? This room is for employees only.”

Lydia listens in, and not only did his heartbeat kept its pace but the man actually looks surprised at finding them there. Maybe he wasn’t looking for them. Lydia buttons her shirt back up quickly while Stiles flails looking around for his clothes on the ground. “We’re so sorry,” she mutters, feigning embarrassment. “This is not what it looks like…” she tries to excuse their behavior, telling the man exactly what he won’t believe in. Of course it looks like a hook up. It’ll give Stiles and Lydia the upper hand.

The guard raises an eyebrow, a depreciative look taking over his features. “I think it kind of is, Miss.”

Finding his clothes, Stiles stands straight and puts his t-shirt on quickly. “We’re really sorry,” he murmurs. “But you know, your beautiful girlfriend grabs you by the hand and practically shoves you into a dark room and starts making out with you… How am I supposed to say no to that, right?” he says with a wink directed at Lydia.

She looks at him awestruck and almost melts at his cocky expression, taking note of how he’s all rosy cheeks and pouty lips, his hair a complete mess. Lydia ends up genuinely blushing at his sentence. The guard, certainly uncomfortable with the whole situation, hushes them out of the room. “We are so sorry, Sir,” Lydia lets out, putting on her cutest worried face. “We didn’t mean to get in trouble.”

The guard turns on the light and peeks inside the room to make sure that everything is okay. Apparently satisfied, the lights are switched off and he turns around to face the pair, the brown-haired man standing behind the redhead, his hands on the woman’s waist. The guard raises an eyebrow. “You think you two are the first couple I catch?” He chuckles sarcastically. “At least you were just making out. God knows what I’ve seen in some of these rooms before… We check all the rooms and lock them at midnight and there’s always a couple hiding in one somewhere doing, well, stuff…” he trails off. “I think it’s the vibe of this place. People come here to relax and, well, they do. Just- Just go, get out of here.”

Lydia knows she shouldn’t push their luck but she needs to be sure that they’re still allowed to stay in the property. They’ll need to look around some more. “So you’re not kicking us out?”

The man looks at them from head to toe, and to him they just look like a young couple having a little fun. He sighs. “I won’t rat you out. Just don’t let me catch you again, alright?”

Oh they’ll make sure of that. They nod repeatedly and Stiles starts pulling her to him, already backing away. “Thank you so much. It won’t happen again.”

Lydia grabs one of Stiles’ hands and mutters “Have a nice evening, Sir” to the guard, turning around and taking Stiles with her in silence until they reach the fire stairs they’d used before. As soon as she opens the door and they’re alone again, Lydia teases him. “Some way to reconnect, uh?” she says amused, arching a perfect eyebrow.

Stiles stops at the base of the stairs and takes a second to look at her properly; at how her hair is disheveled and she’s completely flushed, even a little breathless. “I hate you so much right now,” he blurts out, giving in to a knowing smirk.

Lydia stops too and looks up at him, rolling her eyes playfully before letting go of his hand to start trotting up the stairs, leaving Stiles slightly behind. “You keep telling yourself that.”

“Okay, I did miss you,” he remarks while catching up with her easily, and flashing her one of his most endearing smirks. She’s not sure how her knees didn’t flail at that.

“Of course you did.” Lydia grins, feeling her cheeks heat up even more. “It’s good being back.”

“Not so good almost getting caught though,” he mutters, wetting his lips briefly. God, he can still taste her.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Jinxing it! We still have at least another full day here and I don’t want to get caught, Stiles. And we’re sleeping in the same room, I really don’t wanna hear you whine about it all night,” she tells him pretending to be annoyed, just the idea of sleeping on the same bed as him already distracting her.

“Oh you’d rather hear me say other things all night, now wouldn’t you?” he asks mischievously, smirking despite himself.

Lydia slaps his arm once more but can’t help but to give way to a chuckle that, before she knows it, has her giggling like a fool. She can only hope that her blush can pass by how hot it is in there. _It can, right? Which is their damn floor again?_

She’s not sure how they got here. They were just fine after senior year, just friends, and then she moved to enroll in college leaving him behind. It didn’t matter much though. Most of their free time was spent talking on the phone or online and before they knew it they just couldn’t get enough of each other, missing the other part of them to death. In those years, they only saw each other during the summer for a week or two, and it was barely ever enough. They’d never done anything to move their friendship forward, not with so little time in their hands. What they needed was more time to reconnect and get acquainted with the idea of the other being right there again, so now that Lydia was back for good, that was what they were going to do. Reconnect, take things slow and then they’d see. That was their plan. So much for that now!

Stiles places one of his hands on her lower back softly, pulling her a little closer to him and blushing himself. “I’m kidding. It is good to have you back, you know?” he murmurs.

They reach their floor and Lydia stops before opening the door to the hallway where their room is at, allowing them a few more moments by themselves. His words sound so genuine that she gives in to her instinct, getting up on her tiptoes and hugging him, her hands stroking gently at his hair and the nape of his neck in ways they probably shouldn’t.

The same way, his arms wrap around her waist in less than a second and they don’t move for what feels like an eternity. He regrets not hugging her when she got back to Beacon Hills two days ago. It had been business straight away; they’d barely had time to say ‘ _Hi_ ’ to each other. He hugs her tighter.

Lydia doesn’t let go. “I missed you too,” she whispers calmly in his ear, her lips brushing his skin. She feels him shiver and, for a moment, it’s just them there. Just Stiles and Lydia, two friends with some not-very-defined lines when it comes to the exact nature of their relationship. But they don’t care about it. They don’t care what they are or what the others think. It’s them; they’ll figure it out on their own eventually.

Lydia pulls away reluctantly, almost a little shy. These simple, but deep, displays of affection are something she’s not really used to. She smiles softly, soon breaking into a grin when she sees that Stiles is wearing the exact same expression. Looking for his hand, she entwines their fingers easily and pulls him along through the door and to the empty hallway. “Come on, lets go get some sleep. It’s late.”

He walks beside her, relieved that this is the closest he’s ever been with the banshee and that it’s only just the beginning; she came back to stay. They sneak glances at each other every other second while they look around trying to remember where their room is. When they find it, Stiles slips his hand away from hers to find their key in his pockets, and Lydia takes advantage of having both her hands free to tuck her hair behind her ears, suddenly nervous. The feeling dissipates quickly though. Stiles, being the comic relief as usual, leverages that she’s distracted and places his hand on its previous spot on the dip of her back, slowly lowering it to squeeze one of her ass cheeks discreetly, or as discreetly as Stiles can ever do anything. Lydia yelps in surprise and locks eyes with him looking for some sort of excuse, a justification for his bold actions – well, bold for him -, but Stiles just shrugs his shoulders like it’s none of his business, soon breaking out laughing when her lips part slightly and her eyes widen, giving way to a shocked expression.

Lydia can’t help but to follow suit and starts laughing too because if his laughter is something besides endearing and music to her ears, it’s contagious. “Stiles! What was that for?”

“Oh you know…” he says, getting way closer to her than necessary to open their door, just behind her. He just stares at her for a second, trying his best not to grin and failing miserably at that. Unlocking the door and opening it, Stiles walks past her and enters the room, turning on the lights. He gestures for her to get in too and Lydia takes a step forward, eyeing him warily as she walks by him and licking her lips absently. He has to fight the urge to kiss her right there. “Reciprocity,” he mutters nonchalantly. “Now we’re even.”

Lydia giggles and starts rummaging through her things to find clothes to sleep in and grab her small bag of toiletries, while Stiles locks the door behind him and moves to do the same thing. He hears her mutter ‘ _dork_ ’ under her breath when she makes her way to the bathroom and Stiles can’t help but to smile to himself yet again.

It is good having her back.


	2. Part 2

Lydia is already in bed when Stiles comes out of the bathroom, hiding under the covers to stay away from the cold night. The only thing that Stiles can see is the top of her head, strawberry blonde peeking from under the white sheets.

He takes a deep breath and makes his way to the bed as well, turning off the lights in the meantime. “Scoot over,” he murmurs to her, sitting on the mattress.

Lydia shakes her head, not that he can see. They’re completely engulfed in darkness. “No.”

“Lydia, come on,” he whines. “This bed is already small.”

“The bed is not small, Stiles. Yours is a single bed, this is a double,” she replies matter-of-factly. “How is this a small bed?”

He tugs at the sheets, grumbling. “Well, I’m not that used to share, so excuse me for wanting some space to sprawl as I want.” Lydia doesn’t move. “And by the way, I can’t sleep unless I’m in the middle.”

Lydia smirks and Stiles can’t see it, but he can definitely hear it in her voice. “Then you’re either sleeping on the floor or you’ll have to come to the middle of the bed too, because I can’t rest unless I’m in the middle either.” Stiles huffs loudly and Lydia chuckles. “We can snuggle, Stiles,” she suggests playfully, glad that he can’t see her blush.

He takes a moment to think about it, not wanting to cross a line. The fact that his plan to get together with Lydia Martin is dead and buried because things are not going as he had planned is leaving him anxious, unsure about what to do next. “Would that be okay?”

He barely whispered but Lydia can feel him tense beside her, noticed his serious tone. She wants to tell him that “ _we’re friends, Stiles, of course it’s okay_ ” but that would probably send the wrong message.

They’re not friends, they’ve never really been.

They’ve always been so much more than that. “Yes, I’d like that,” she admits.

She considers elaborating on that, telling him that it’s because they’re in the beginning of February, that it’s so cold outside that they can use each other to warm up better. She could offer him any other excuse really, but instead she doesn’t say anything else and just waits for him, keeping her answer genuine. She’s not sure where all the tension between them came from all of a sudden but it’s there, almost palpable.

Stiles swallows thickly and resolves on not thinking about it too much, soon getting under the covers. He hesitates before pulling his left arm up so that Lydia can move closer to him, but Lydia doesn’t even waver. As soon as he moves his arm, Lydia nuzzles against his chest and into his embrace, her head resting on his shoulder. Stiles refrains from kissing the top of her head, nervous as he is.

Even if he really wanted to.

He'll just wait on things to follow their natural course. “Good night, Lydia.”

She sighs softly. Inhaling his scent makes her feel strangely at home. “Good night, Stiles.”

xxxxxxxxxx

They wake up at the same time and Stiles is almost sure that she woke up because of him, because he always stirs too much in the morning. Lydia doesn’t seem to mind, not really saying anything about it. Their position changed from the one they fell asleep in, and now they’re both lying down on their stomachs, far too close to the other with Stiles’ arm around Lydia like he’s protecting her, pulling her to him further.

They’re breathing the same air.

An inch closer and they’d be glued.

“Don’t move,” she all but whispers as soon as she feels him shift beside her, her voice laced with sleep. “Can we…” She opens her eyes and he’s right there, all too close. Their foreheads are touching. “Can we just stay like this for a little while?”

He stares at her, eyes searching. What for, he’s not sure. He nods and Lydia closes her eyes promptly, letting out a contended sigh that brushes his lips sinfully. Stiles finds himself closing his eyes as well.

Lydia is all too aware of how hot his arm feels against her skin, embracing her waist where her shirt had ridden up during the night, and how he’s absently moving his thumb lazily against her skin in a pattern she can’t discern for the life of her. She’s also too conscious of how her left hand is so close to his face that all it would take for her to make a move on him would be to actually move it.

Taking a chance, she does.

She moves her fingers slowly, letting them graze his jaw so lightly that she fears he won’t feel her touch. Lydia doesn’t need to open her eyes to feel his breath catch in his throat and, after far too long, letting out the air straight to her wanting lips, feeling him relax when he does so.

She doesn’t stop, moving the tiniest bit closer to him like he’s a magnet, pulling her in inevitably, and in a matter of seconds their noses are brushing tenderly against the other, his hand on her waist holding her to him more firmly than before the same way that Lydia finds herself cupping his cheek.

She turns on her side and so does he, almost at the same time, eyes opening briefly only to scan the other for any signs of insecurity.

There are none.

Their lips meet so softly that if Lydia wasn't sure it was real, she'd say they weren't even kissing.

There's slight pressure on both parts as they start to move together, as they ease into it, lips and hands and bodies pressed close as they give in, _finally_ , and just when their lips part so they can deepen the kiss, the phone rings.

The phone from the hotel room rings noisily and Stiles, in typical Stiles' fashion, startles in a way that makes his limbs fly everywhere. The comforter falls to the ground with his spastic movements and he trips over Lydia to get to her side of the bed and reach for the phone to make the absurdly loud sound stop.

The unfamiliar ringtone sets his senses alert. Who the hell would be calling them from the hotel so early on a Saturday? Afraid that something might have happened, Stiles picks up promptly, ignoring the best he can Lydia's laughter over his reaction and trying to wrap his head around the fact that he and Lydia just kissed, willingly, for the first time in their lives.

(Not for the first time, really, if the night before was to count. On his part, at least, it was. He was very much into it when he resigned to the situation.)

The conversation is brief. When Stiles hangs up, he sits on the edge of the mattress and groans. Lydia sits up as well.

“I’m gonna kill Scott.”

Lydia chuckles, one of her hands moving to his hair comfortingly, absently as if she'd done it her whole life, and running through it ever so slowly like she doesn’t even notice she’s doing it.

In truth, she actually doesn’t.

And in all honesty, it comes naturally.

Stiles doesn’t seem aware of it right away either.

“I’m sure you never could,” she muses. “But what did he do?”

He huffs. “It was the front desk, just a wake-up call that Scott so kindly had thought of for us. You know, like we needed the reminder of having to get out of bed early to chase more leads, _again_. If there even are any,” he mumbles.

Lydia smiles. “You’re really not trusting Scott on this one, are you?”

Stiles frowns at her but Lydia just laughs. "I don't know. I mean..." He goes to run his hand through his hair but finally notices that Lydia is already doing that. Blushing hard, Stiles stutters. "I- I mean..." Lydia lets her hand fall from his hair to the mattress rather slowly, like she's regretting losing his touch already. Stiles notices how she blushes too, but doesn't say anything. "I don't know, it just feels like... Well, we barely have any information on the guy we're supposed to be investigating and hmm..." Lydia moves the tiniest bit closer, her hand beside his on the bed now. If Stiles hadn't been paying attention, he wouldn't have caught it, but when is he not paying attention to Lydia, anyway? "Deaton was super ambiguous about the mission, as always, and Scott didn't give us much to go on with."

Her pinky touches his almost ghostly but Stiles complies easily, his fingers entwining with hers like two puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly. "So uh-" Her voice comes out hoarser than she'll ever admit it did. "What are you thinking?"

"Honestly?" Stiles just stares. Stares at their hands first, then right at Lydia, his eyes bringing such fire into hers that Lydia can't help but to glare right back. Their hearts start beating faster, erratically, and blood creeps up their cheeks easily, but neither looks away. "I think they're setting us up."

Lydia can't help the way the corners of her lips quirk up at that, because even if she already thought the exact same thing, hearing it out loud does make a difference, more so when Stiles is the one saying it. She purses her lips, bashful, like she always seems to do when she finds herself in situations like this with _him_. "I think so too."

It's but a whisper, but Stiles hears it loud and clear. "Really?"

Lydia nods vigorously, her tousled curls moving with the action to frame her face in a way that makes Stiles gawk because she looks absolutely breathtaking.

Lydia, on her part, just pushes her hair back and away from her face quickly, slightly embarrassed by the disarray that is her mane in the morning.

Stiles doesn't give her the chance to reply or to do anything else, his free hand making her stop when he cups her cheek and she blushes further.

Her eyes lock with his instantly, glistening, an almost shy smile on her lips.

She could never tell who leaned in first.

Stiles rests his forehead against hers and Lydia bites down on her lower lip before speaking, before kissing him because she knows that’s what is going to happen.

And good god, does she want it to!

"Does it actually matter _why_ we're here?"

Stiles shakes his head negatively.

To Lydia, he looks almost breathless.

She can’t say she’s faring much better but she smirks anyway, continuing. "Because _we are_ here." Her fingers graze his jaw ever so lightly, one by one as she speaks. "Just me... And you..."

"And the bed," he ventures playfully, winking at the banshee.

Lydia lets out a chuckle. "And I'm pretty sure we were doing something _very_ important before we were interrupted..."

He nods in agreement. “We really were.”

“Maybe we should-”

“Get back to that?” He interrupts. Her lips brush his as she pulls him closer by tugging at his shirt. Lydia closes her eyes. “Ye-”

He doesn’t even get to finish the word and Lydia’s lips are on his in a heated kiss, much like the ones they’d shared the night before.

Stiles doesn’t have it in him to complain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a review :)
> 
> Also, in case you missed it, I’ve already posted the prologue to “A love for the ages”, a Stydia Medieval AU. Go check it out and let me know what you think about it ^^

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Please leave a comment, tell me what you think?


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